I never watched AI. Never intended to. But one fateful night I was on the treadmill when the show came on the television. The remote wasn't handy and I didn't have the gumption to stop the darn thing and change the channel manually. So I watched. Moments later, he appeared, unleashing that glorious voice right there in front of me. "Holy Crap! He's friggin fantastic. Too bad he will never make it through."

By pure coincidence, or perhaps something more cosmic, I was again on the treadmill when the wild card show aired. Once I saw Clay had indeed made it through, I stopped the contraption and attached myself to the TV. I never missed another minute. Wait, that's not quite true. There was Country Night when I was in the emergency room. But even then, in between bouts of nausea and delirium, I could be heard saying, "Is Clay on yet? I need to hear what he sings. Isn't there one single #&% TV in this place? What do you mean I can't use my cell phone in here? Unplug the damn monitors then, I NEED TO VOTE FOR CLAY!" Ok, maybe the delirium never quite cleared.

When the final show revealed that Ruben was the newest American Idol, I was dumbstruck. Not necessarily by the outcome but by Clay's graciousness. How endearing this was. Then, next morning I awake to the "did he know the outcome" rumor. How deliciously endearing this was. I had to know more. Clay may be more like me than I thought.

That's when it happened......

I entered the Broadmuda Triangle. It was May 24th, 2003. I remember it well. The sky was Carolina Blue, the swells were calm. I had no idea what was about to hit me. I Googled "Clay Aiken". I relaxed in my chair.

1,238 hits - WTF!

I first entered ClayAikenOnline but was confused and uncomfortable. This was not the place for me. Next I came upon ClaytonAiken.Com but again - no satisfaction there. Persistent as I am, I forged on. Alas, I discovered the Broads, and the fit was just right!

The quality of the lechery that flowed through the Purple Pages was like none that I had ever seen before. I was sucked into its vortex immediately and completely. I read everything in one long marathon session. I laughed. I cried. I peed my panties. It was beautiful! They were others like me.

Others who noticed the charm, magnetism and, yes!, sexiness of Baby. Others who wanted to spirit him away and do heretofore unmentionable things to him. Others who noticed the disco pants.

I lurked for a long time. The wit, sarcasm and innuendo were out of my league. But then Nelle announced the BEVR series and posted that no one volunteered for the Pittsburgh show. This was it. I dove into the swirling lechery and on July 15th, I offered up my BEVR. I felt liberated! Oh, the release!

Well, the concert had come and gone. So had my BEVR. Oh, it had its moment in the sun...but only because Pittsburgh just happened to be the city that tossed Clay his first pair of panties. I know, its sad that someone else's act of broadliness is my claim to fame but I take what I can get. I went home contented that night knowing that Baby would be fully on board with any and all activities planned for him by the Broads. He's as lecherous as the rest of us and it's attractive as hell that he won't always admit it.

It was from this point forward that my lecherousness grew. I found innuendo in all that I heard. In all that I saw. I started craving strange food combinations. I even started checking out packages to see if they were a DTTR or a DTTL. I sucked up every picture and every download that I could. My computer strained under the pressure. I didn’t care. The AI tour moved westward, the sleep deprivation set in. I didn’t care. Hubby’s tolerance for all things Clay waned. I didn’t care.

To honor the rich history and tradition of LBFCA, a new series makes its way to our illustrious main page. "The Broadmuda Triangle" wants your Broadly (or Brudely) tale. Who are you? What makes YOU a Broad?